


Wander

by Esselle



Series: Wander [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bonding, Enemies to Friends, Fantasy, Inspired by Studio Ghibli, M/M, Snow and Ice, developing feelings, long journey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 20:12:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10906632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/pseuds/Esselle
Summary: ' "Are we—safe?" Hinata whispered. He hardly cared. Even if danger was imminent, he couldn't have looked away from the sight in front of him."Yes," Kageyama said. "They won't notice us. We're not… important enough."And that made sense, Hinata thought, that they were as insignificant to the moving mountains as they were to the ice itself.'--The land is dark and cold, child, sobrave it with a soul that sees its beauty.





	Wander

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for the HQ Ghibli Zine, a collab I did with the wonderful [Ainu](https://ainu.tumblr.com/)! Her incredible cover art for this fic can be found [here](http://ainudraws.tumblr.com/post/160668616291).

_If enough of a life was spent upon the ice, the cold became its own kind of warmth._

So went the old saying of the people of the ice.

Each tribe across the land, be they wanderers or village dwellers, kept with them one special torch to stave off the cold, one that would always stay bright, and never burn low. The flame could light any kindling, and would only be extinguished if a lesser flame touched it, one not of the sacred fire.

These torches had been lit by the Eternal Flame, located far across the ice. Few dared attempt the long and lonely trek to reach it, but the fire was part of each tribe's long history, and if, by chance, it were to go out, the journey would have to be made as recompense.

But one year, during an annual gathering of the tribes, it happened that _two_ torches were extinguished. And so, as tradition dictated, they must be taken across the ice to bring back the fire again—to the far reaches of the land, into the unknown wilderness.

"How could this have happened?"

The question was directed at two boys, of different tribes, yet currently befallen by the same circumstances: Kageyama, a wanderer, and Hinata, a villager.

They each held the darkened remnants of their tribe's sacred torch, and though both insisted the other was at fault, their stories amounted to the same thing—someone had pushed, someone had shoved, and the torches had fallen, into the enormous bonfire pit of manmade flames that warmed the hall used for tribal gatherings.

Now the nomads and the small fishing village had lost their sacred fires, and there was only one way to reclaim them.

"He'll slow me down," Kageyama said, glaring in Hinata's direction. "He's never even left the village. I can take both torches, and be back within—"

"It is the two of you who doused the Flame," said his elder, "and as you are both of age, it is the two of you who must rekindle it."

And Hinata, whose dream it had always been to see more of the ice than the snowfall across the tops of the village houses, balled his hands into fists and glared right back at Kageyama.

"You'll be trying to keep up with me," he declared.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Kageyama sneered.

But neither of them had any idea of the journey that lay ahead.

*

Hinata had thought he understood cold.

He had grown up in it, after all, or so he'd believed. But true cold was different. There were no warm halls out on the wild ice. There were no lit torches, pinpricks of light breaking the blanket of never-ending dark. True cold found his bones, and seeped inside them, with no intent to ever get back out. He couldn't understand something so harsh and unforgiving.

But Kageyama did.

Hinata couldn't help but feel this was because the other boy was so harsh and unforgiving himself. When the wind howled, he would bark rough orders to Hinata, to keep up, to keep moving. This was easier said than done—after barely a day of walking, Hinata's limbs had begun to ache from the unrelenting chill.

The only time they stopped was during the few scant hours of daylight, when it was warm enough they needn't worry about freezing to death from the period of inactivity. The small tent they had barely blocked the wind and the cold. While the sun was up, they could also see far enough through the swirling snow to keep watch.

Kageyama always sat with his wooden bow across his knees, arrow notched, peering out into tundra, or into the forest of tall trees at their backs. Hinata had yet to keep from falling asleep on one of his watches—at the end of every shift, he found himself being woken by Kageyama's furious voice.

Despite the misery, still they kept on.

"I don't want it," Hinata told Kageyama one bleak dawn, when Kageyama rationed out portions of the dry, tough, salted fish they'd been eating for days on end. Today, Hinata could barely stand to look at it.

Kageyama stared at him impassively, and then shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said. "I'll eat your share."

Hinata wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, angrily. They were both partially at fault for being made to cross the ice, yet Kageyama acted like Hinata had dragged them out there himself.

"Still think it's that easy to live out here?" Kageyama asked him.

"I never thought it would be easy," Hinata snapped at him, teeth chattering. His jaw ached, from how hard they clacked together, or else from clenching them in an effort to stop. "I just wanted to know what it was like. What's so wrong with that?"

"I could have done this faster if they hadn't sent you," Kageyama grumbled.

"Well, they did," Hinata said. "And I'm not going anywhere, so you better get used to it." Kageyama blinked at him in surprise and Hinata scowled. He was too tired to argue, but he wasn't going to let Kageyama say whatever he wanted, either. "Give me the fish."

Kageyama raised an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't hungry."

"I'm not," Hinata said, holding out his hand. "But if I don't eat, this'll be harder, won't it?" When Kageyama passed him his food, he bit into it viciously, forcing it down his throat. They finished the meal in silence.

When they began to walk again, it seemed as though Kageyama turned to look over his shoulder in Hinata's direction, more and more. And so, tired as he was, Hinata pushed, and pushed himself, and managed not to fall behind.

Soon, he had grown more used to the pace Kageyama set, and they walked side by side beneath the snowfall.

Then one twilight, as the sun quickly faded from the violet sky, Kageyama woke Hinata before it was time to get moving.

"It's not dark yet," Hinata mumbled, too sleepy and almost warm to be properly angry.

But the next moment he felt a vibration shake the earth beneath his body, and then another, and another—unceasing tremors, and he sat up, suddenly very awake, looking wide-eyed at Kageyama.

Kageyama tugged Hinata up off the ground before he could ask any questions, yanking him through the flap of the tent, to look out across the ice. Hinata clung to his arm, stunned at the sight before him.

"That's…" he stammered, awestruck. "Are those—"

"Icewalkers," Kageyama said softly.

There were massive, four-legged creatures, traversing the ice. Towering over the ground, even taller than the enormous tundra fir trees the tribe felled to create their huge halls back home. Atop each of their heads were bleached white antlers, intricate cages of bone, spanning dozens of feet across, stretching up toward the sky.

Hinata had heard stories of Icewalkers from the elders, but no one could ever agree on a description. But now that he saw them with his own eyes, he knew that the eerie, awe-inspiring sight before him would defy any description anyone could ever give.

Their coats were white, their legs too long and thin compared to the rest of them, though close up they must each have been the size of tree trunks. Their hoof falls were causing the shaking, and a deep, thunderous rumble so low Hinata felt more than heard it, vibrating through his entire body.

"Are we—safe?" Hinata whispered. He hardly cared. Even if danger was imminent, he couldn't have looked away from the sight in front of him.

"Yes," Kageyama said. "They won't notice us. We're not… important enough."

And that made sense, Hinata thought, that they were as insignificant to the moving mountains as they were to the ice itself.

One of them called out into the quiet night. Hinata jumped, clutching Kageyama's arm tighter at the sound of the long, echoing wail. One cry was joined by many, as the other Icewalkers responded, their calls filling the air—some of their moans were high and piercing, where others hummed low like deep horns blowing across the ice. For all their size, their voices were gentle, yet sad. The call made Hinata's heart ache.

"Bet you haven't seen anything like that near the village," Kageyama said. But it wasn't a taunt.

Hinata shook his head slowly. "Do you see them often?" he asked, as they watched the figures continue on across the land. Their immense strides carried them away quickly, though their sheer size made them appear to move incredibly slow.

"No," Kageyama said. "And I've never been this close."

Hinata glanced at him for just a moment—and he saw something as shocking as the sight of the Icewalkers themselves.

Kageyama was smiling. It was small, hard to see, but it was there, and his eyes were bright in the sun's last rays.

Hinata turned back to watch the beasts. "I've never seen anything so amazing," he said softly.

They kept watching until it was too dark to make out even the giant silhouettes, receding on the horizon.

*

The land was filled with wonders.

Though nothing could hope to top the Icewalkers in Hinata's mind, each day they ventured farther seemed to bring something new and beautiful.

Some nights the sky turned green and purple and incandescent blue, a river of light that wound its way through the stars. Kageyama told Hinata that these were the South Lights, though he had no explanation for them.

Then there was Kageyama himself. After the Icewalkers, his initial abrasive nature had begun to chip away. If Hinata was being generous, he might go so far as to say the other boy had become warmer, though he had odd ways of showing it.

He brought down a small elk with his bow one day during the sunlit hours, and Hinata was roused by the sound of clanging pans and the smell of cooking meat.

"Got lucky," Kageyama said, as Hinata was drawn hypnotically to the small fire and the allure of fresh food. "With all the wind, I wouldn't have been able to hit anything even if I _could_ see through the snow. But it let up today." He was happy, Hinata realized.

"Why didn't we just hunt for one before?" he asked. He wouldn't have complained—he was sick of dried food.

"You're too loud," Kageyama said, shaking his head.

"I am not!" Hinata squawked—loudly. Kageyama looked pointedly at him. Hinata huffed and said, in a quieter voice, "Well, I _wouldn't_ be."

"I don't think that's possible for you," Kageyama fired back. "Why do you think I've only ever seen one while you were sleeping?"

Hinata grumbled. "You could've just gone on your own, then."

"Didn't want to leave you by yourself," Kageyama said, serving up some of the sizzling food on a plate. He seemed not to notice Hinata's surprise following his revelation. "Hinata, _eat."_

Hinata shoveled the food into his mouth, and burned his tongue. But still: "It's delicious! Thank you!"

Kageyama _almost_ smiled, again.

By the time dusk had fallen, Kageyama had done even more work—cut the meat they hadn't cooked into strips to salt and dry, and skinned the elk's hide and treated the fur, while Hinata watched squeamishly from behind his fingers. Within the next few days, the thick pelt could be worn as a hooded coat for extra warmth.

"You wear it," Kageyama told Hinata bluntly, thrusting it into his chest without looking. "So you quit shivering all the time."

It fit Hinata perfectly, and wearing it made him feel warmer than he had in weeks.

"Can I keep it?" he asked Kageyama. "Even after we get back?"

He needed to ask now, he reasoned. Once they got back, Kageyama would venture back out onto the ice with his people, leaving Hinata behind in the village. The thought made Hinata's stomach feel leaden. He was oddly jealous—partly envious of Kageyama for seeming so much stronger than him, for being able to have more adventures like this one. For while the ice was cold, it was beautiful, too, in its own way.

And he was jealous, too, of the people Kageyama called his tribe, the ones who were born to wander the ice. The ones who knew Kageyama, who would see even more amazing things with him long after Hinata had watched his back disappear into the swirling snow. What did he think of this journey they were taking together? Would he remember it after they'd gone their separate ways? Maybe the sights that seemed so incredible to Hinata weren't special, after all.

Kageyama reached out, tugging the hood down hard over Hinata's eyes. Hinata struggled, futilely, but quieted when he felt a heavy hand land on top of his head.

"I made it for you, didn't I?" Kageyama grunted, and Hinata peeked up at him to see he was resolutely staring out at the ice. "It's yours."

The chill became more bearable than ever before, to Hinata, and the ice no longer as unforgiving. And throughout the silence of the empty wilderness, he wasn't alone. Kageyama was there with him, leading him through it.

*

Nights on the ice were never truly dark. There may not be torches to light the way, but there were the stars overhead, and the moon, and the ice itself seemed to glow under their light.

Late into one long night, Hinata saw something even brighter dart by under his feet.

Was he imagining things? But there it was again—a small shape, maybe two hands long, gliding its way underneath the ice. Whatever it was glowed a beautiful blue-green, and it was swimming below the surface.

Hinata gasped and dropped to his knees for a closer look, reaching out automatically for Kageyama, to show him, excited by this newest discovery.

"Maybe we're getting closer to the Flame," Kageyama said as he spotted it.

"How do you know?" Hinata asked, crawling along the ice, chasing the little light undulating below him. "What is it?"

"It's a moon fish," Kageyama said. "They only school in warmer waters."

"School? But there's only…" Hinata looked up at him, and saw Kageyama was looking past him, eyes shining blue.

The moon fish suddenly darted back the way it had come, behind them, and Hinata stood and turned, to see a sight that made him gasp.

There must be _hundreds_ of them. Dancing blue flames, racing toward them beneath the ice, light flowing from below, throwing off swooping, dappled patterns wherever they swam. Kageyama reached out to steady Hinata, who stumbled as the shining fish seemed to engulf them, a never-ending stream rushing by below. Hinata chased them farther out onto the ice with a whoop.

"Amazing!" he shouted in glee. "Kageyama, it's amazing!"

"Don't go too far," the other boy called back.

" _You_ come _here,_ then!" Hinata expected Kageyama to ignore him in exasperation as usual. But he didn't. Instead, he listened.

The other boy slowly followed him, and Hinata started to grin, beaming at Kageyama as he moved closer.

"Stop staring," Kageyama said, frowning, though he let Hinata grab his hands to pull him impatiently into the midst of the swimming lights.

"There's nobody else around to stare at," Hinata said.

"There's them," Kageyama said, with a nod down at the moon fish. The school seemed to have settled right below their feet.

Hinata hummed. The moon fish were beautiful, but it was all because of the light they emitted, the same light that played in dips and waves over Kageyama's face, his eyes, the tips of his black hair. So Hinata was still appreciating their spectacle, in a way. But he wondered…

"Is this why you like it out here?" Hinata asked him.

"Like it out where?" Kageyama asked, staring down at the ice and the fish.

"Just, wherever you are," Hinata said. "Is that why you and your tribe are wanderers?"

"I don't… I didn't like it," Kageyama said, after a silence.

This was the last answer Hinata was expecting. "But, all the stuff you know how to do—you're _good_ at it—"

"I have to be to survive," Kageyama said. "But I never…" His frown deepened—not out of anger, but in thought. "I always felt like I was seeing all these things alone, before."

He finally met Hinata's eyes, hesitantly—the fish were beginning to disperse, move on further in their course.

"Oh," Hinata whispered, as the light on them flickered and began to dim, like a bright blue flame finally burning low. "Oh."

"I think I'm starting to like it," Kageyama told him, equally quietly. "Maybe."

"Maybe," Hinata agreed, stepping much, much closer to him. For the warmth.

*

The days began to pass surprisingly quickly, and eventually, they became aware of seeing something, in the farthest distance across the flat icy landscape. Something different; a lessening of the darkness, though there was no way to tell how far away it was, or its source. But they both knew what it must be, because there were no fires made by man out here in the wild.

They matched it with their own small fire when they stopped to rest, stoking the blaze as high and strong as they could. Now they took their time around the campfire, trading stories—Hinata would talk about what it was like, growing up in the village, clearing the boats of sleet to fish out in the bay. And Kageyama would tell him some of the many things he'd seen in his travels, until Hinata's expression became too wistful. They began to take longer packing up camp, and their pace gradually slowed. But still, every night, the light in the distance became brighter, and clearer, and then took shape.

And one day, they reached it.

It wasn't large. But there were other things that were strange about it, this one single beacon in the darkness. It was set on a pike, a little taller than Kageyama, made of simple wood and wedged into the ice. But the flame, flickering alone in the wide-open tundra, had drawn them to it. Its fiery orange tendrils twined around each other steadily. With no one around to keep it lit, it burned.

"We made it…" Hinata breathed. His quiet voice seemed to carry—the air was very still around the torch, hushed by the fall of snow.

Kageyama pulled his tribe's torch from its wrappings. "Can you even reach?"

Hinata pushed against his shoulder. "Yes! I think."

Kageyama pushed his torch into Hinata's hands, and said, in response to Hinata's startled expression, "Will you light it?"

Wordlessly, Hinata nodded. He stretched up, onto his toes, and Kageyama put one hand on his shoulder to steady him and wrapped the other around Hinata's hand on the torch. And together, they rekindled the blaze.

The Flame jumped, and grew—spread to their torch at the same time it arced high into the sky, flooding the air with heat. And as the light and warmth from the Flame washed over them both, Kageyama turned to look at him, and Hinata beamed back.

"Your torch," Kageyama prompted, after a moment. Hinata, who had almost forgotten about his own, fumbled for it, holding it out for Kageyama to set it alight. They stared at the twin fires burning.

"They seem brighter." Hinata said. "Brighter than before."

"You think so, too?" Kageyama asked, staring up at the new flames.

"Yes," Hinata said, and then he realized. "We can go home."

Kageyama nodded. "You can."

"Oh." Hinata's smile faltered. "I meant…" He could go home. But Kageyama, and his people, only had the ice.

Kageyama stared at him for a long moment. "You know," he said, "if you spent a little more time in the wild… you might start to like it more."

"Maybe I already do," Hinata told him.

Kageyama pushed his torch toward him. "Then you should be the one to give this back to my tribe. Maybe, if you wanted…"

"Could I come with you?" Hinata blurted, and Kageyama seemed relieved that he had understood.

"I think that would be good," Kageyama said, and then added quickly, "for you, I mean. There's… there's a lot you haven't seen yet."

"I want to see everything!" Hinata said, leaning forward so quickly in his excitement that Kageyama had to dodge the torch before it singed his nose.

"No one sees _everything,"_ he said. "That would take lifetimes."

Hinata grinned, reaching out to Kageyama. And Kageyama took his hand without hesitation, a small, warm smile on his face.

"I think that's exactly what I'd like," Hinata said.

It would be difficult for the chill to find them now, with their torches held aloft, and their gloved hands holding tightly to each other. The journey ahead might be longer still—but Hinata was excited to find out how warm his life might become, out there on the ice.

_\--_

_Your journey isn't done, child, no,_  
_and now you've found that other soul to share it._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> We'd very much like to expand this story someday :) It might be a little while, but I hope people enjoyed it enough to look forward to more \o/ 
> 
>  
> 
> [hq-ghibli-zine.tumblr.com](https://hq-ghibli-zine.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [I'm [@esselley](http://esselley.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [@Esselle_hq](https://twitter.com/Esselle_hq) on Twitter]


End file.
